


Just A Quiet Friday Night At The Pub

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:04:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: That's all it was supposed to be, just a quiet Friday night at the pub.  Lou, the bartender, had been counting on that, as had Lieutenant Craig Garrison.  What they got, well, when all was said and done, the list was quite lengthy, starting with Garrison's bunged-up hand, Chief's aching head, Big Mike raking in a bundle on his Pool, and that's truly just the start!   "Friday night! Nice, peaceful bloody Friday night!!!"For a glimpse of how some others react to the events of the night, you can see "Life Lessons", coming up shortly.





	Just A Quiet Friday Night At The Pub

Lou finished wiping down the bar, took a fast glance around the main room of the pub, making sure all was in place. Floors swept, ashtrays at the ready in a stack at the back table; folks knew where they were, would pick them up if they needed them. Glasses were stacked, clean and polished, for drams and for pints, pitchers all on a table at the far end of the bar itself. Stack of clean wipes, just back from Mrs. Wilson, all in place on their shelf under the bar. No bar maids on tonight; Nellie was scheduled, but had sent a message she was sick; Josie had to help with Nellie's father and kids; not such a big thing; the patrons could fetch their own drinks from the bar; they'd done it before, and while it made for a crowd up there sometimes, everyone was generally good about being patient. It was a good group, those who showed up on Fridays. No free bar snacks, those only put out on Mondays and Wednesdays, the slowest nights, to tempt those who might not otherwise think of dropping in for a pint; there was plenty of business the other nights without trying extra hard to bring them in. Still, the kitchen had things ready for those who wanted them - pickled eggs, pickled onions, crisps, some of that popped corn the Yanks seemed to favor, salted nuts, maybe some Scotch eggs if the woman who made them was able to get the ingredients though that was doubtful, and if it were him, he'd not trust that supposed sausage to be what it was claimed to be anyway. But mostly, people came in to drink, and socialize, and gossip. There'd most likely be a card game, maybe two. The dart board would see its fair share of use; it usually did.

{"At least it's only Friday; glad it aint my week to take the Saturday shift! That takes more outta a bloke than I'd want to take on without building up my strength, specially with Nellie calling in sick,"} thinking back to the last Saturday he'd worked. Two fights, ambulance called, breakage it had not been easy to explain to the owner, seeings how the overhead chandelier had been among the victims, and his suggestion that the owner actually BE at the pub on Saturday nights to take a look hadn't gone down well. {"And with my luck, he'd come down, the lads from the Mansion would be out doing whatever they do, and the Base would be on lockdown, and it'd be quiet as a pair of church mice through here, and he'd think I was daft or malingering or trying to tap the till anyways."}

Still, it wasn't Saturday, it was Friday, and while Friday sometimes had its moments of action, certainly more than was evident the other weekdays, Lou was looking forward to a busy but relatively peaceful night.

Three hours later he was dodging milling customers, swinging fists, and assorted glassware to grab for the phone back of the bar, "Ben, it's Lou - you'd best get over here!" He ducked the flying chair that came his way, wincing as it landed with a crash and a rain of splinters. He didn't bother to explain, just hung up on the Constable trying to get more details, and concentrated on ducking the flying debris, while trying to get the more expensive bottles down from the top shelves above the bar down to where they had a better chance of survival.

"Friday night! Nice peaceful bloody Friday night!" he growled to himself, as he crabwalked to the end of the bar and peered around. The owner was going to be bloody pissed about this! Leastwise the man was away til next week; Lou'd be able to keep his job til then maybe.

**

Lieutenant Craig Garrison laid his head back in the big arm chair, glancing over at the small table to the side. That table held a bowl of ice water, and his right hand was currently soaking in it, and he wasn't sure any more whether the resounding ache was from the damage or from the cold. He started to lift it out, only to hear a stern, "no, Craig, put your hand back IN there! I'll tell you when it's been long enough. If you won't let the doctor tend you, since you say nothing is broken, that is fine, but you WILL get it tended to. Just what will you do if HQ sends us out on a mission with your hand too swollen to use your pistol?" Actor had his take charge voice in full force, and Garrison sighed and dropped his hand back into the bowl.

"Can I at least have a drink?" he heaved an annoyed sigh, to get a warm chuckle in return.

"Yes, Goniff is getting it now. And the good stuff, too, not that 'whatever-they-are-decanting-into-the-bottle-this-week they tend to palm off on you at the Base."

Garrison gave a jaundiced look at the tall Italian, "you're starting to sound like Meghada, you know?"

"Yes, well, for whatever failings she might have, she does have a nice taste in liquor, for all she has rather a disdain for beer, never mind her abominable opinion regarding champagne."

A short blond man bounced into the room, "oi, Warden, 'ere you go! Fix you right up, this will! 'Gaida says it's one of the best she's sampled in awhile," holding up a bottle to the light, squinting at it with one eye, brow raised appraisingly. He gave a positively wicked leer, "well, in drink anyways," waggling one eyebrow suggestively, taking no notice of the expected groans he was receiving, indeed would have been disappointed if he HADN'T received from the other two men.

"Now all the places what make the stuff 'ave switched over to making penicillin an the like, most of what's out there is made of who know w'at, and you can ruddy well taste it!, but seems she 'as 'er own sources now."

Garrison frowned at his resident pickpocket, "and where did that come from?" he said sternly, pretty sure that hadn't been here earlier, since the guys had been complaining about the lack of anything decent to drink before they left for the pub, and remembering quite well he'd told everyone to stay put after they'd gotten back to the Mansion.

He got an incredulous look in return, obviously reprimanding him for not paying attention, "just told you, Warden, 'Gaida," Goniff sticking to his self-imposed, but necessary, subterfuge of still calling Garrison by that nickname, or by his rank, except when down at the Cottage.

"Yes, I heard you but . . ."

Actor laid a soothing hand on the officer's shoulder, "he just went over to check on her, Craig. Seems after we left so precipitiously there was some trouble with another group that came in, or at least with an American Major. Since another ambulance was required, Ben Miller thought to give us a heads-up."

Garrison looked at them, and then at Casino and Chief who'd just come through the door, the safecracker sticking close to the younger man, being sure to be in reach if Chief got wobbly. He'd got a bit of a pasting earlier, before Garrison and the guys had busted up the party.

"Do I want to know?" Garrison asked with some hesitation, not sure his aching head could handle much more. Casino snorted, even Chief had the beginnings of a faint grin on his face. Goniff had a full grin on his face, but with a bit of coldness about his hazy blue eyes that didn't usually lurk there, enough to show his amusement only ran so deep. Actor was trying to hide his own amusement, but not very well.

"Meghada had stayed behind after we left, at the request of Ben Miller, to give the full details from her point of view. Ben was taking other statements, hadn't gotten around to hers yet, so she was giving Lou a hand with sweeping up the breakage, tabulating the damages, and such when a small contingent from the Base walked in. The ranking officer was a Major Conners, American, newly arrived from the States it would appear. The three of them ordered a pitcher, even though Lou told them he wasn't open due to the fight. He insisted, and Lou gave in. They got settled, started on the pitcher and then, well. . . He apparently mistook Meghada for a barmaid," and Craig Garrison gave a sincere groan, shaking his head, {"this story cannot end well!"} knowing all too well the disposition of the female in question.

"His mistake was quite understandable, in some regards anyway, even if his expectations were perhaps ambitious and his behavior was deplorable. She'd tied on an apron, and her hair had started coming down in the brawl, so she'd tied it back with a kerchief. Still, I rather doubt even the regular barmaids would have appreciated his approach. As I understand it, he caught her on her way out to dump a load of broken glass into the trash bins out back, and while her hands were occupied with the box, grabbed her and shoved her up against a wall and told her to, per Old Howie who saw the whole thing, I quote, "drop your drawers and bend over!"

The men laughed while their commanding officer choked over his drink and turned red.

"He told her WHAT??!"

"Oh you heard me correctly, Craig. So, of course, the ambulance had to make a SECOND trip! Ben Miller gave a call up here, just making sure we were all on premises and likely to stay here; I'm not sure what he thought we'd do, as it seems Meghada had handled the situation admirably, but he did mention something about ambulances and ambulance drivers both being in short supply and not liking them to be damaged unnecessarily, no matter how good the cause. We discussed it and compromised by sending Goniff down to the Cottage to be sure she was alright, and she sent back the bottle. Says she'll be up to check on us as soon as she finishes with Ben Miller. He had decided taking her statement there rather than at the pub might be advisable, since after hearing Old Howie describe the scene, everyone still there was trying to buy her a drink and slapping her on the shoulder and retelling the story at the top of their lungs."

After getting Chief well settled in another armchair, Casino grabbed the glasses and the quite excellent bottle of bourbon had a good lowering by all present. By the time the young redhead entered the room, accompanied by Sergeant Major Gil Rawlins, merriment abounded.

"Well, and you all seem to be in better spirits than I'd hoped to find you," she chuckled, noticing the greatly-reduced level of liquor still in the bottle sitting on the round table, "or is it merely the better spirits being in you?? Gil, I think we need to sample that to be sure of what they're inbibbing, don't you?" and she poured out a nice measure into two glasses, handing one to the non-com.

"Um, yes, they've got the recipe just about right, I'd think; perhaps a bit more aging, but well worth the effort!" she purred with satisfaction.

"I'd say so, Miss! A new source?"

"Aye, one of my family has decided to see what they could do with an old recipe they found, all in a good cause, you know, strictly for Family and Friends. That stuff they're passing out on Base, and truly down at the pub at times, wonder sometimes how they keep from poisoning someone! This, now, this is well worth the drinking!" taking another sip from her glass.

The non-com had never thought bourbon worth the effort, what he'd tasted being rough and harsh, but was now looking at his glass with considerable appreciation, "one could get used to this, 'e could," he finally admitted, taking another sip, then another.

"You're alright, Meghada?" Garrison asked, looking her over carefully. She sported some bruises and now that he looked carefully, a few cuts on her hands and arms.

"Well enough, most came from the brawl, though some from the broken glass in the alley."

"And this American Major? Conners, I heard. I don't think I've had the pleasure . . . . Yet!."

Though he fully intended to meet him, sometime in the near future, maybe explain how things worked, maybe remind him of his manners. It would be touchy, what with Conners outranking him, but he was sure he could find some way of getting the point across. Looking around, he could see the same intention on other faces, especially Goniff's. He needed to forstall that, he knew, if at all possible; Goniff in particular could get inventive when he thought boundaries had been crossed, though the other guys weren't slouches in that regard either.

"Well, he took a bit more damage. Amongst all else, seems he landed arse first in that pile of broken glass he made me drop all over the step; doubt he'll be sitting down to a pitcher of beer or anything else anytime soon," and the coldly satisfied smile on her face dissuaded any of them from thinking that had been any accident.

"Ben Miller's thinking of having a word with the commander on the Base; Ben's a reasonable sort, but two ambulance visits in one night, and on a Friday even, well, I think he might be losing patience with that lot. Lou's more than a bit upset; the owner's been giving him a rough time about the breakage; while you and the guys ante up for any YOU cause, as do I, the Base paltroons don't, and the owner made threat of having Lou make up the difference or lose his job, being how he's supposed to control the crowds as part of his duties. Stupid, of course; only way to do that would be to put a lock on the door and turn off the lights. Told Lou I'd have a word with the fool myself, and in the meantime, sat up a pitcher on the bar for donations, with a card telling why. Imagine it'll garner enough to help ease his temper a bit."

Goniff hid a grin; he knew his Dragon, and figured the pitcher had a nice little sum tucked inside already. Garrison started to speak, but Chief beat him to it, "I'll put in some; part of that tonight was me," with Casino retorting, "no, that wasn't you, it was them. But I'll put in some too. Lou tried to help; could've been worse for the Indian if he hadn't tipped us off when he did."

Goniff and Actor were obviously in agreement, and Garrison nodded. "Yeah, we'll get it down to him in the morning. But if the owner doesn't want the breakage from the Base, he needs to put it off-limits. He just doesn't want to lose the business. Can't have it both ways, and if he doesn't like it, he needs to get into another line of work," Garrison proclaimed. Meghada smiled just a bit; she had a notion or two along those lines herself.

**  
"I never did 'ear just what 'appened down there, Lieutenant, leastwise, not a version to trust. Seems everyone saw something a bit different," Gil Rawlins commented. Garrison suppressed a grin; the non-com wasn't going to come right out and ask, but he was greatly curious none the less.

"Well, it was supposed to be one of those quiet little trips to the pub," he started, taking a quick look at Gil to see the obvious doubt in those eyes. Yes, well they all knew how some of those 'quiet little trips to the pub' turned out.

"And it probably, well possibly," he admitted with a rueful smile, "would have stayed that way, except for a group of guys from the Base; a Lieutenant, I don't think I ever did catch his name, showed up with another four or five of his group in tow; settled down, started working on a couple of pitchers. The guys were clowning around, as usual, then started a poker game, just themselves, usual cheating going on, usual bickering. Chief got tapped on the shoulder, one of the soldiers inviting him to a game of darts. Seems word's gotten around he's good; they thought they were better. He was bored with the card game, I think, so he did. Again, shouldn't have been any trouble; I watched them for awhile, seemed alright, Chief nailing them as usual, and then I got involved in talking to Doc Riley. Place was really loud; well, you know what it can get like."

"Next thing I know, Lou's tapping me on the shoulder, telling me there was trouble over the darts games, I looked around, the soldiers are gone, Chief is gone, my guys are starting to look around like they know something's wrong. Lou motions to the back, I head that way, the guys after me. They've got Chief strung up between them, looked like one of them had taken a cosh to the side of his head, and the Lieutenant is whaling away with his fists. I take the Lieutenant, the guys take the others, Goniff and Lou drag Chief out of the way. Then Doc Riley is there, getting Chief inside. We drag the lot back inside to wait for Ben Miller and the ambulance."

"Ambulance, sir? There was that much damage? I know you brought Chief back here," Gil asked.

Garrison wished he could have controlled the rather embarrassed flush that came to his face, since an officer brawling in the alleys or in a local pub was not quite the thing.

"Well, their Lieutenant had a broken nose, among a few other injuries. One of their men ended up with a broken arm, I think; maybe a few ribs not exactly in pristine condition. The others, well they took their damage too."

Rawlings gave a grin he just couldn't keep hidden, imagining the scene, also thinking just a bit on that long-shot bet he had down on Big Mike's pool, "yes, not quite the trip you had intended, I'm sure. What started it all, if I may ask?"

"Said Chief was cheating. How the hell do you cheat at darts?? Especially with so many watching?? The Lieutenant claimed he was just too good NOT to be cheating. Idiot! So, instead of just not playing another game, they decided not only not to pay what they'd bet, they thought they'd give Chief a lesson."

"Lad's going to be alright?" The non-com never really wanted to admit it, but he had a soft spot for the Lieutenant and the guys.

"Yeah, some heavy bruising, a couple of cuts, none of which he should have, of course, but it could have been worse if Lou hadn't let me know as soon as he saw what was happening."

"And the Miss? She seems to have taken some damage too, along with the lads."

"Well, some from the brawl that took place inside, when we dragged them back in; there was another table of guys from the Base that decided to have their say and started swinging, then everyone was throwing punches, throwing things! I thought Lou was going to sit down and cry! Some of hers, though, came after."

"We'd left, the soldiers had all left, some in the ambulance, some on their own two feet with me blistering their ears as they headed out. We came back up here with Doc Riley; Meghada stayed to give her statement to Ben. While she was waiting, she was helping Lou clean up the mess. Another officer and his men came in, the officer made probably the most blatant try for her I've heard of, outside of those idiots who show up at the Cottage after hours."

He snorted, and repeated what Old Howie had said about that attempt, and Gil's mouth dropped.

"Is 'e in 'ospital, or with the undertaker?" he asked, and Garrison gave a wry grin of understanding.

"Hospital, with, among other things, an arse full of broken glass. She dumped him right in the middle of what he caused her to spill."

 

**

Big Mike Rafferty sat checking his Pool sheet, matching it against the money all over the counter, placing each new bill in its appropriate stack, noting names and amounts on a sheet, on the counter in front of him, shaking his head in amazement.

"Brawl at pub, check. Brawl at pub on night other than Saturday, check. Brawl at pub involving Garrison's team, check - don't win much with that, hardly any odds at all. Incident with O'Donnell lass, check. Ambulance called, check. Two ambulances in one night, check. Injuries, four to six, check. Hospital time for four to six, check. Total injuries, not counting Garrison's guys or the lass, over ten!, check. The Lieutenant taking a hand and landing some blows of his own, check - and there's the jackpot, no one cept Gil Rawlins betting that'd ever happen, and lots betting against, including me, more fool that I am! Bloody hell, I can still pay off a good bit of what's left on the mortgage with this lot and still have enough to cover bets for some time!"

He looked at the big pitcher on the counter, half filled with money, with the card. He picked it up and read it.

"Lou, what's this? Old Masterson's got the ready, the bloody miser; why the dole?"

He heard from the bleak-faced Lou about Old Masterson's take on the whole 'breakage' issue, and snorted with disgust.

"Cheap bastard knows the risks of running a pub, with the Base so close by. He don't want to deal with it, needs a different line of work, or get the place posted, I'd say," to see the hearty agreement on Lou's face.

"Still, says it's my job to keep it all quiet, keep the trouble down. Says the breakage will stop once he starts taking it out of my pay. Weren't my idea, the pitcher and card, was the O'Donnell lass. Dropped in a goodly bit to get it started too, she did, and most others last night added in, saying it was worth it for the amusement value. Mansion sent down a roll first thing this morning too, though it wasn't their fault, not this time. Lass said she'd have a word with him too, Old Masterson; doubt that'd do any good, probably just get his back up more; doubt he'll take it any too kindly, her taking him to task."

Mike looked thoughtful, "think I should put a new entry in my Pool. Possibility of damage to Old Masterson by O'Donnell lass?"

And the two old acquaintenances shared a snicker at the thought, as Big Mike added his own bit to the pitcher.

Well, that Pool entry never paid off, but Lou wasn't disappointed. Seems within a few weeks, the O'Donnell lass sat down with him and introduced a new manager team, friends of hers, who were quite happy to have Lou stay on with them, if he liked. Seems the pub was under new ownership, though Lou didn't get any details of just who and how that came about. He didn't really care; Gene and Rita Corbey seemed good types, and he found them fine to work for. He was expected to do his job, keep his wits about him, but not expected to work miracles. He could live with that, he could.


End file.
